The posts here at YLCF this month have shown a beautiful diversity of doing — and not only doing it well, but doing it with a purpose!
This month’s posts were just the beginning, though, to get you thinking about your passion, your purpose. Because now, it’s your turn…
My friend Sarah, a Canadian by birth, lives at the top end of Australia, thousands of kilometres away from me. Recently she had a layover between Canada and the Northern Territory and we were able to spend an afternoon catching each other up on our lives since we’d last met. We sat sipping frappes in…
As a graphic designer, I smile when I think of my job in Massimo Vignelli’s eloquent terms. Indeed, in my own small way, I am a crusader, a soldier, a world-changer. I am not merely another person compelled to join the masses of humanity that must sell eight or more hours of every day, just to make enough money to pay for basic necessities. I have a life-changing calling.
I had been pursuing my passion of performing for the purpose of exalting myself, rather than pursuing God and allowing Him to use my passion for the purpose of glorifying Him… But this time I will wait with eager faith for God to reveal how He wants to use my passion for the performing arts to glorify Himself.
It’s scary because I’m not perfect. I still have so much life to live and so many lessons to learn! But (what if?) God is putting stories on my heart and whispering, “Please write – or draw – this for Me.” And so I try…try to write stories and draw pictures that capture a tiny bit of that “irresistible” vision of womanhood.
From the moment we found out we were pregnant with our first little one, we knew we wanted to have a homebirth. Many of of our close friends had had their babies at home and since there weren’t any factors prohibiting it (high-risk pregnancy, etc.), it was almost a given.
But then…the unforeseen happened.
There is nothing more satisfying than the feeling that I get when I do the things that God created me to do. I feel alive, and the fears that often keep me back fade away in the confidence that He gives in doing, in being. These are the passions that make us who we are. This is the feeling of being where we belong, of doing what we were made for. But it is finding purpose within our passion that keeps us going in the right direction.
Curled up on the couch across from my dad, I bring up a nerve-wracking subject. My stomach twists as I slowly weave words, not about boys or privileges, but of books and pens put to paper. I ask him what he thinks I should do about it, about my writing. I talk about it as if it was something between a terminal illness and an upcoming coronation. What do I do about this inevitable, undying, powerfully pending thing?
